Child of Nothing
by ScreamingInsanity
Summary: When the Dark Lord searches for the Ring, he attacks Mirkwood. There are no known survivors besides one new born elfling. A Legolas who was raised in Rivendale, must come to tearms of who he really is, and what he is capable of.
1. Prologue

A/N: This is probably my first successful story. I'm actually planning on working on this one. I would first of all like to thank Valerya who is my beta. She does a wonderful job, and puts up with my delays.

Disclaimer: I would like to say that I do not own LotR, no matter how much I would want to. _And have Aragorn and Legolas do naughty things at night. _Did I just type that out loud?

An Introduction to the End

Thunder clapped, but no rain fell on this humid summer night. Of course the elves did not feel this, for they felt something very different. Sorrow. It washed over them as the sea washes over the shore, taking away little grains of hope.

Elrohir stood upon a balcony in Rivendell, facing East in hopes to see Mirkwood. But not even Elven eyes could see through the clouds of death and decay.

Elrond stood in the doorway, watching his youngest twin son closely. He could feel the worry and grief coming from Elrohir in waves of emotion. The tears that pricked at the corners of the young elf's eyes were winning the fight of pride versus emotion, and Elrohir gripped the railing to stop himself from collapsing.

Walking swiftly, Elrond approached his son, and placed his hand upon a shivering shoulder. Elrohir turned around, and buried his face within the crook of his father's shoulder and sobbed. "There's no hope is there?"

"Shh," Elrond whispered soothingly. "Do not let your despair overcome you." He stood there holding the distraught elf, stroking his hair as if he were a child who has just awoken from a bad dream. And that's what it seemed like, a sick, twisted event that could only happen in a nightmare.

"What is happening, Ada?" Elrohir asked when his sobbing subsided.

"The Dark Lord is returning to power," He replied calmly. "He is searching for his treasure. Somehow we must find it before he does."

"Will he attack Rivendell?"

"Not likely," Elrond replied, sighing heavily. "Either way, we will not allow anymore massacres." He exclaimed, lifting Elrohir's head up from his shoulder, and wiping away any remaining tears.

"Where is your brother?"

Elrohir smiled, "With our Hope."

Elrond chuckled, "Then let us find our Hope."

They left the balcony, and walked slowly down the hall, heading for Elladan's room. Elrohir stayed close to his father, feeling both uncertain and safe, but pushed it away to bring out the little bit of happiness he still had. Others would need him to be strong. Especially Estel, who was now too young to understand death and disaster.

"Ada!"

Both turned to see Arwen racing down the hall towards them. She skidded to a halt in front of them. "Mithrandir has returned. He is waiting in your study."

Elrond's face turned grim, and he nodded. He turned around and started heading swiftly towards his study. The first thing he heard when he entered the corridor was the cry of a small child. Opening the door he saw the wizard trying to calm the screaming infant.

Nestled within the arm of the wizard was a pale, blond-haired, elvish baby. He was small and looked undernourished. The runt's face was turning red from lack of air from crying, apparently not liking his long journey.

Elrond stepped forward, and took the child. The babe calmed when he was placed securely within the elf lord's arms. He slowly opened his eyes - shimmering, indigo eyes - that blinked sleepily up at him, then fogged over into Elvin dreams. Elrond smiled slightly and dried a few of the tears that still lingered on the child's face.

"He is the only known survivor," Gandalf said softly. "He is not but a couple of months old. Legolas, the last son of Thranduil." He also pulled out from his cloak a leather-bound book. "This was Enelya's journal. The last pages are written accounts of her last days in hiding." He set the book on Elrond's desk. "She did not survive the birthing of the child."

Elrond looked down at the sleeping babe in his arms. "Sauron has gone too far. Killing whole civilizations!? He must be desperate indeed." Sighing, he looked back up at Gandalf. "We must discuss this with the others. I will have a dispatch sent to Celeborn. In a few months we shall hold a counsel to discuss the next course of action."

Gandalf nodded, "But what of the little one? What will become of him? Surely, it would be too much to take care of a newborn, and start Aragorn's studies."

"I will raise him," Arwen said as she stepped outside. "If you would allow it." She had a determined parental air around her. "Since you and both of my brothers shall be too engrossed in your goals… Please, adar, I can prove this a wise decision."

Elrond looked at Gandalf, then at Arwen, and walked up to her. "I know I wouldn't be able to trust anyone more then I trust you, but there are still tests that need to be performed. Such as finding out if he carries any illnesses, and also finding out if he is a carrier of the gene."

Sighing, he then placed the infant into his daughter's loving arms, "Until we come to our decision about anything, I can at least leave him in your care."

Arwen looked up at her father, and smiled sadly, "I will not fail you, adar." She sighed, and looked into the babe's dreaming eyes. "He looks so much like her. Her presence is truly with him." She closed her eyes briefly, then opened them to look up at her father with a smile. "Some are going to start believing that we are starting a home for war orphans."

Elrond smiled slightly. He brushed his fingertips against Legolas's soft, blond hair, then he kissed his daughter's forehead. "Go watch over your young charge until we make a decision."

Arwen bowed slightly, and started for her room where the weary infant could rest.

"There is no other choice!" Erestor announced, standing and looking crossly at Glorfindel. They had been arguing through most of the night, and into the morning with little progress made.

Glorfindel stood, fists clenched. "So you would sit by while those of our own kin are slaughtered before us!? While many of us are fleeing from these shores!? While every green field and mighty mountain crumble to dust, and we are sent into an eternal darkness!?"

"No, but you must understand that by just marching into the enemy's land will ensure the death of us all!" Erestor looked unflinchingly into the eyes of the blond elf, daring him to retaliate. He only sat when the other did the same.

When silence returned, and the quarreling elves calmed down slightly, Elrond spoke. "In this matter I must side with Erestor. I too would want this evil dealt with, but walking blindly into war would only bring more tragedy."

"Then what do you propose we do?" Glorfindel said brokenly, eyes cast down, shoulders tense. "Are we to just wait until the end? Sail to the west, or let this darkness engulf us?"

"No," Elrond shouted, fire in his eyes. "It will not come to that. We will defend ourselves the best that we can. We must bide our time until the Ring is discovered and a path to its destruction presents itself. Until we do, we must keep the sanity we have left."

Glorfindel looked up into the wise eyes of the elvish lord. Nodding, he shared a reassuring look towards Erestor, and leaned back into his chair.

"There is one more matter needing to be discussed here today," Galadriel exclaimed, going up to stand beside Elrond as Arwen came out holding an infant. "There is one known survivor of the attack. Seven months ago, Mithrandir discovered the Queen in labor. The babe is healthy, if not a bit small for his age. This is Legolas, " she proclaimed motioning towards the child, "Thranduil's last son."

There was a collection of gasps, as the others looked at the child wide-eyed. Erestor spoke first, "What is known of him?"

Elrond sighed, "Enelya, caused by the grief of losing her family, went into labor two months early. Mithrandir found her, and helped her deliver the child. Enelya did not survive. We believe she had died of grief.

"The child is completely healthy, which remains to be a miracle. Mithrandir has done an aura reading, confirming that Legolas does, in fact, carry the gene."

"I have been leaving him in the care of Arwen," He paused, looked at Galadriel, and nodded, "It would be best if she continued caring for him. He shall live here in Imladris, under the guidance of my daughter."

"Shh," Arwen paced back and forth in her room, trying to sooth the crying infant,, bouncing the child and humming slightly.

There was a knock at the door, and Elladan stepped in, rubbing his temples. He walked up to his sister, and took the babe from her arms, and continued Arwen's previous movements.

Using an old trick from when Arwen was this age, he stuck his index finger into the child's mouth. The child started to eagerly suckle on his finger, slightly biting with his new teeth.

"Good idea," Arwen said though too soon, for Legolas once again started sobbing. Arwen went over to her neglected lunch, and brought to her brother a dish of honey.

Elladan dipped his finger into the honey, then, once again placed it in Legolas's mouth. The babe now suckled contentedly, with Elladan reapplying honey to his finger every so often.

A knock on the door, then in ran Estel, followed by Elrohir who was carrying a baby's bottle, and a pitcher of milk.

"A bit late, aren't we brother?" Elladan said smiling at his younger twin. He watched as Elrohir took the whimpering child and handed him the bottle he was reaching for. He smiled slightly as the infant snuggled against him as he drank from the bottle.

"I had some help," Elrohir said a little frustrated, glancing at Estel then back to Elladan. He walked over to the child's cot, and leaned against the wall. Brushing hair away from the child's eyes, Elrohir kissed him on the forehead. "Hey, little one."

Elladan smiled as he saw his younger brother. Turning to Estel, he found that the human was transfixed by the site of the young elf. He then looked up at his sister. "Do you think that grandmother's vision will come true?"

Arwen looked between the two children, and smiled at how they admired each other. "Definitely," She said just as the two youngest residences in the room fell asleep.

--tbc--


	2. Child of NothingCh1

A/N: Sry about the wait. I've been conflicted. Well I'm currently working on Chapter 3 and trying to make it extra long for you people who have been waiting. Let me know what you think, and I also need some help with finding Elrond a 'mate' If you have any suggestions please tell me, I'm gunna try to put it in soon.

* * *

Legolas sat perched in a tree. Hiding was his intention, but  
apparently he wasn't doing a good job of it. Approaching from the entrance to the gardens that lead from the family chambers was Elrohir.

"Penneth, come down to me."

Sighing, Legolas swung down in front of the elder elf, and looked down at his feet sullenly. A warm hand brushed some hair out of his eyes, and lifted his chin. Legolas looked him in the eyes. "I am always stuck here when Estel has to go off."

Elrohir brushed more of the young one's hair out of his eyes. "It has become too dangerous near the boundaries."

"And yet he still goes," Legolas ripped himself out of reach, "It is just as dangerous for him as it would be for me!"

"I know," Elrohir said sadly. Legolas stared at Elrohir in shock as tears settled in the older elf's eyes, but refused to fall. "Let us go. Your mother is waiting for you."

* * *

That day, Legolas continued his lessons like everyday. That day, Legolas and Arwen went out into the surrounding woods to collect herbs. That day, only one returned.

Aragorn was just about to leave his new hobbit friends in their new accommodations when he heard soft, hurried footsteps coming towards them. Obviously an elf, and by the slight clumsiness in the footfalls, it had to be Legolas.

Just as he had placed a name on the elf that was coming towards them, the blond came around the corner, and barreled into the ranger, sobbing. The elf's legs gave out, and he sank to the ground.

Aragorn tried to sooth him, as Legolas sobbed and tried to talk, but the sobs prevented the words from making sense. But, he knew. By Eru, did he know and wish that he never did. He ran his hand in soothing circles across the elf's back. He picked up the trembling elf, and carried him down the hall and out into the gardens. Under the same tree Legolas had occupied on that fateful day. "Ssh, Legolas, you  
need to breathe."

"She is dead," He sobbed brokenly, "She was lying there in a pool of her own blood." Legolas clutched desperately onto Aragorn's shirt. "Her dress was torn. There were tear streaks upon her face. The pendent from her necklace had shattered."

Aragorn sat on a bench with the elf in his lap. He once again tried to sooth Legolas as he broke down into sobs once more. According to Elrond, Legolas had never before given his own account of things that had happened the day of the orc attack.

He sighed when he noticed that the sobs had subsided. Legolas was asleep. He glanced up and met the faces of three curious hobbits.

* * *

Legolas awoke upon the soft cushions of his own bed. He looked around groggily, wondering if he had just dreamt that Aragorn had returned. He turned onto his side and closed his eyes against the burn of tears that had settled in his eyes. He was startled when he felt a warm hand on his face.

He glanced up, and sat up in one fluid motion, and almost hit heads with Elladan. Legolas quickly looked down in shame of himself for becoming so weak, and had to blink back tears again when he found himself being enveloped into strong, caring arms. He felt the elder elf tremble, and found that he could no longer hold back his sobs from one of his dearest teachers. He sat there in Elladan's arms, clutching onto his tunic as if he would be swept away. Then, the door opened as quietly as it could, and Legolas reluctantly let go when Elladan pulled away from him. In his place sat Elrond, and he immediately started to check for illnesses. He checked for signs that Legolas had started to fade. With a sigh, he closed his eyes, and thanked the Valar that Legolas had not been so far gone in his grief.

"Are you hungry, penneth?" Elrond asked, but scowled when Legolas did not speak, but merely shook his head. "You should eat something. I do not recall the last you have unlocked your door. No one sees you at meals anymore. You have starved yourself so much, Legolas. Your ribs are almost completely visible!"

Legolas lowered his gaze. He knew many others were suffering. Right now he just wanted to waste away and die. He felt repulsed at himself. "I am sorry."

Surprised and saddened, Elrond softened his gaze and smoothed the younger elf's hair. "You have no reason to be sorry. We are just concerned. No one was closer to Arwen then you as her son. We want to help you get through this. There is more for you to learn in this lifetime."

Legolas looked at him quizzically. "What do you mean?"

Elrond glanced towards Elladan, and kept quiet until he had left. "I have foreseen the evil that is engulfing our world. Aragorn has brought a great menace to our land, and it is up for a revised Council to decide what the whole of Middle Earth is to partake in. No longer can elves alone decide the good of the world."

"There will be other races at the Council? Men and dwarves?"

Elrond smiled sadly at memories of Legolas's reclaimed thirst for knowledge. "Yes, young one, but that is not the important part to this discussion. If the council wills it, we will need to gather a company to take this evil where it can be destroyed. I have foreseen nine walkers. Two men, four hobbits, a dwarf, and . . . an elf."

"What are you saying?" Legolas asked, even though he slightly awaited and feared the answer that was to come.

"I will be sending you to represent the elves in this great deed. If the company succeeds in their task, you shall be known as the elf that walked against the nine Nazgul."

"I do not think I deserve the honor." Legolas sat and thought long and hard, but finally raised his head to meet that of the elven lord. "I will meet this task as best I can if it is the will of the council, but . . . you have only named eight."

Elrond chuckled, "You did not think that Mithrandir could pass up the opportunity? He will be coming along to give his own council when I will not be there to. He will be a guide as one who has traveled these lands and back again many times.

"Tonight will be a welcome feast for those who have arrived to give their own ideals. And, I know that Bilbo would like to introduce you to his nephew."

Legolas's eyes light up, "I can not wait to see him again, and now I really do regret my foolishness. I have not helped him with his tales in ages!"

"Do not fret, Legolas. No one thinks you foolish, and I know that Bilbo will be waiting to hear your talent with the piano once more."

* * *

A/N: Thanks for all that have reviewed. I really appreciate it. As posted above I really need some help with finding someone for Elrond. I'll actually try to post the 3rd chappie by the end of the night or tomorrow. 


	3. Child of NothingCh2

**A/N**: I have realized the confusion of the character's ages. I have here some info for you all to clear things up. This is how I view elves. This is not Tolkien Logic, but my own.

* * *

Legolas: 85 years-old but I believe that he would still have the mind of a teenager. He and Estel have grown-up together, and eventually they have become closer than anyone could have seen. Except maybe for Elrond. She was raised by Arwen, who is now dead. 

Aragorn: 87 years-old. I took that from the movies because I havn't read all the books yet. He acts like a normal human being, which means he can appear to be way older than Legolas. He, of course, was raised by Elrond. (Who still needs a special friend).

Disclaimer: Legolas?…Aragorn?…oh yeah that's right. Tolkien owns you.

Warning: AU, mentions of rape, SLASH

* * *

Legolas carefully studied himself in the full-length mirror. He felt extremely self-conscious about how he looked, especially since this was the first in a long time that most had seen him. His hair was still untouched tossled and still damp. His once form fitting clothing, a pale green tunic and black pants, were hanging off him from his previous starvation, and he felt ugly. 

There was a short tap at the door, and Aragorn walked in. He caught Legolas's doubtful eyes through the mirror, and smiled reassuringly. He grabbed a brush from the night-stand, and stood behind the elf to brush his hair. He carefully sifted through the blond strands, and softly untangled any knots that had formed. "There now." he whispered, "You look so beautiful."

Legolas's eyes widened, and he turned around to look up at the ranger. "How can you say that after what I've done to my body? I feel so ashamed of what I have let happen to me. I just want things to go back to they way they used to be." He raised his hand to Aragorn's stubbly cheek, and caressed it lovingly, then let it drop to his side. "And can only imagine what the others are thinking of me. About how weak I've become."

Aragorn stared at Legolas sadly. He pulled the elf into his arms, "No, Legolas. Do not think that. No one has thought of you as weak. You are still young, and no has blamed you for what has happened. 'Tis the way of elves, Legolas. Someone important in your life had been torn from it. The fact that you are still alive proves your true strength."

Tears in his eyes, Legolas buried his face against Aragorn's soft shirt. Aragorn rests his chin on the top of Legolas's head. He smiled at the familiar scent of mint. Legolas had stopped crying, and was just standing in the familiar warmth of Aragorn's embrace. Aragorn pulled back, and smiled lovingly.

* * *

Legolas fidgeted in his seat at the table. He was aware of many eyes focused upon him, and he knew he wouldn't be able to avoid this for much longer. He was semi-glad that he could get this over and done with. To his left sat Aragorn, and on his right was one of the foreigners. One of Aragorn's hands were placed soothingly upon his knee. Across from him was Elladan, who was saying and making rude gestures about the person next to him and making Legolas laugh. The person next to him happened to be Bilbo, who knew exactly what Elladan was trying to do, but started to reprimand the full grown elf, and making his nephew jokingly wonder about the sanity of everyone on their side of the table. 

Pretty soon, everyone was ushered into the Hall of Fire. Legolas was being dragged by Aragorn, who was going towards the dance floor. Lindir was singing melodically, and many couples had taken to dancing. He was a little awkward at first, but this beat was slow, and the hand on his back guided him through the music. He wrapped his arms around Aragorn's neck, and felt himself smile. He couldn't remember the last time he had smiled so much.

Suddenly, the music became fast, and Aragorn had pulled away, and he began to move skillfully. Legolas stood watching, not really sure what to do. This is what he hated about dancing. It always took him sometime to get into the vibe. Soon, he found himself pressed up against Aragorn's body once more. He was guiding him through the steps. He soon found himself smiling broadly. He pulled back once again, and found the steps easily.

Soon, though, an intermission was set, and Bilbo had been calling them over, and soon they were seated before Bilbo and his nephew Frodo. "About time you two stopped. I do know not of what I would have done should they not have stopped their music. I'm almost done with this one," He said holding up a piece of parchment. "It just needs a melody." He glanced over at Legolas

Legolas's eyes were doubtful, but the reassuring hobbit hand on his shoulder pacified him. He nodded and began thinking of a lovely melody he had made once, an assignment from Erestor.

* * *

"Come on, Erestor. At least one dance." Glorfindel stood in front of his lover with his arms crossed. Erestor sat stubbornly in a side chair, and refused to budge. "I know you can dance. You have done so with me in our private quarters. No one will judge you in here." 

"We have never danced so fast," He finally confessed. He looked up into Glorfindel's emerald green eye's. "I would, at least, not want to embarrass our lord's right hand elf." He added to lighten the argument. "But, I truly do not wish to look like a fool."

Glorfindel stood and pondered. "At least a slow dance, melethron. See, there is one starting. You will do wonderfully, amelamin." Without another word, Glorfindel had grabbed Erestor's hand, and dragged him to the dance floor. He already had his arms around the advisor, leaving him no way to escape. But, Erestor didn't even try. He melted into the warrior's arms, and swayed to the music. Some of the elves who did not know him well, openly stared.

"You move like water," Glorfindel whispered. "Do not believe what you tell yourself. You can never find your own words truthful to yourself." He leaned down to the dark-haired elf, and planted a chase kiss upon his pink lips. The song was specifically for lovers-something Erestor wasn't aware of-and Glorfindel was taking full advantage of this public display of affection.

* * *

All music stopped, and it seemed that the minstrels were told to play a light faint tune. Something that would not hinder the sound of speech. The speech came familiar to the hobbits, but spoke of the lore of the elves.

* * *

EŠrendil was a mariner 

that tarried in Arvernien;

he built a boat of timber felled

in Nimbrethil to journey in;

her sails he wove of silver fair,

of silver were her lanterns made,

her prow was fashioned like a swan,

and light upon her banners laid.

In panoply of ancient kings,

in chainŽd rings he armoured him;

his shining shield was scored with runes

to ward all wounds and harm from him;

his bow was made of dragon-horn,

his arrows shorn of ebony,

of silver was his habergeon,

his scabbard of chalcedony;

his sword of steel was valiant,

of adamant his helmet tall,

an eagle-plume upon his crest,

upon his breast an emerald.

Beneath the Moon and under star

he wandered far from northern strands,

bewildered on enchanted ways

beyond the days of mortal lands.

From gnashing of the Narrow Ice

where shadow lies on frozen hills,

from nether heats and burning waste

he turned in haste, and roving still

on starless waters far astray

at last he came to Night of Naught,

and passed, and never sight he saw

of shining shore nor light he sought.

The winds of wrath came driving him,

and blindly in the foam he fled

from west to east and errandless,

unheralded he homeward sped.

There flying Elwing came to him,

and flame was in the darkness lit;

more bright than light of diamond

the fire upon her carcanet.

The Silmaril she bound on him

and crowned him with the living light

and dauntless then with burning brow

he turned his prow; and in the night

from Otherworld beyond the Sea

there strong and free a storm arose,

a wind of power in Tarmenel;

by paths that seldom mortal goes

his boat it bore with biting breath

as might of death across the grey

and long-forsaken seas distressed:

from east to west he passed away.

Through Evernight he back was borne

on black and roaring waves that ran

o'er leagues unlit and foundered shores

that drowned before the Days began,

until he heard on strands of pearl

when ends the world the music long,

where ever foaming billows roll

the yellow gold and jewels wan.

He saw the Mountain silent rise

where twilight lies upon the knees

of Valinor, and Eldamar

beheld afar beyond the seas.

A wanderer escaped from night

to haven white he came at last,

to Elvenhome the green and fair

where keen the air, where pale as glass

beneath the Hill of Ilmarin

a-glimmer in a valley sheer

the lamplit towers of Tirion

are mirrored on the Shadowmere.

He tarried there from errantry,

and melodies they taught to him,

and sages old him marvels told,

and harps of gold they brought to him.

They clothed him then in elven-white,

and seven lights before him sent,

as through the Calacirian

to hidden land forlorn he went.

He came unto the timeless halls

where shining fall the countless years,

and endless reigns the Elder King

in Ilmarin on Mountain sheer;

and words unheard were spoken then

of folk of Men and Elven-kin,

beyond the world were visions showed

forbid to those that dwell therein.

A ship then new they built for him

of mithril and of elven-glass

with shining prow; no shaven oar

nor sail she bore on silver mast:

the Silmaril as lantern light

and banner bright with living flame

to gleam thereon by Elbereth

herself was set, who thither came

and wings immortal made for him,

and laid on him undying doom,

to sail the shoreless skies and come

behind the Sun and light of Moon.

From Evereven's lofty hills

where softly silver fountains fall

his wings him bore, a wandering light,

beyond the mighty Mountain Wall.

From World's End then he turned away

and yearned again to find afar

his home through shadows journeying,

and burning as an island star

on high above the mists he came,

a distant flame before the Sun,

a wonder ere the waking dawn

where grey the Norland waters run.

And over Middle-earth he passed

and heard at last the weeping sore

of women and of elven-maids

in Elder Days, in years of yore.

gut on him mighty doom was laid,

till Moon should fade, an orbŽd star

to pass, and tarry never more

on Hither Shores where mortals are;

for ever still a herald on

an errand that should never rest

to bear his shining lamp afar,

the Flammifer of Westernesse.

* * *

The voice faded, and the melody ceased. Frodo found himself looking at Bilbo, who had stood on a table. The table stood by a grand piano, were sat the elf Legolas. Aragorn leaned against it, looking at the blond elf. His eyes shone proudly as his eyes gazed upon the blushing elf. 

"Now we had better have it again," said an Elf.

Bilbo got up and bowed. "I am flattered, Lindir," he said. "But it would be too tiring to repeat it all."

"Not too tiring for you," the Elves answered laughing.

Aragorn outstretched his arm towards Legolas, and hauled him to his feet, bringing him into an embrace. "I knew you could do it. You are strong, meleth. I would never lie to you. We will embark soon, and you will be strong."

Legolas wrapped his arms around Aragorn's waist. "I truly hope so."

* * *

**A/N:** Wow! Aren't I good. I think this is the fastest I have updated. I have also figured out my pairing problem, and have decided to leave Elrond mate-less. My reviewers seem not to like to help. Well I guess I'll leave the reviews for these two: 

**Legolas:** Am I truly that horrible, **kel**? I have witnessed your human teenagers, and would appreciate not being labeled as such. Glade you like me though!

**Aragorn:** Ecstatic reviews. They are not worth the torment our author puts us through **blackfire15**. I mean the over-time with little to no pay. All the wasted condoms!

**Legolas:** Guess what, **Bubas**! Chapter 3!

**Aragorn: **cries I think I might love you, **Will's Girl**!  
** Legolas: **eyes **Will's Girl **sinisterly


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